


Lipstick Lucy Preston

by SugarsweetRomantic



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Holes (2003) Fusion, Animal Death, F/M, Get Ready for Heartbreak in Three - Two - One, Kissin' Kate Barlow, M/M, Matricide, Multi, Not A Fix-It, OT3, Patricide, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism, Period-Typical Sexism, Suicide, You Read the Tags Correctly, lots of death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-05 15:32:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16813468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SugarsweetRomantic/pseuds/SugarsweetRomantic
Summary: Before becoming Lipstick Lucy, she was Miss Lucy Preston, Green Lake's one and only schoolteacher. When she falls for the two onion farmers, the small-minded community won't accept that; can't accept that. The locals take revenge, but Nicholas Keynes should never have underestimated the wrath of a heartbroken woman.The Kissin' Kate Barlow AU.I've gotta be strong. // Teardrops no one sees but me. // I won't stop; I'll always believe. // I will survive. // I will endure





	1. Chapter 1

**_Green Lake, Texas, 1888_ **

“Onions! Get your onions here! Healthier food you'll never find; get ‘em while they last! God’s own chosen vegetable!” the voice of a young man called out across the town square while wagons passed him by. He was standing next to a cart filled to the absolute brim with burlap sacks of red onions and onion tinctures, part of his face hidden by his wide-brimmed hat. The onion he was holding up was nearly too large for his hands. An old donkey stood to the side, where a taller, older man gently brushed its manes.

“Doctor Bruhl!” the salesman of the two called out to a passing physician and his wife. “Might I see your head?”

“My head? Why would you ever need to see my head, Logan?” the doctor replied, but he lowered his hat nevertheless. His age and the stress of caring for an entire town had left him with thinning hair and a receding hairline. A class of schoolchildren, intrigued by the happy ruckus, was watching them from a distance. 

“Just what I thought!” the salesman responded, and he smiled as he grabbed a bottle of tincture and handed it to the good doctor’s wife. “Apply it on his head every night, Mrs Bruhl, and he'll have hair thicker and stronger than our beautiful Lorena here!” he instructed, motioning towards the donkey. The children giggled.

“You laugh,” the taller man told them as he accepted an onion from the younger man and fed it to the gentle animal, “but Lorena only ever eats onions, and she's over a hundred years old!”

“And how do you know that Flynn?” a soft voice suddenly inquired. “You and Wyatt aren't a day over twenty-five.” The children parted to let a young woman step closer, her slim figure covered by a modest day dress and her brunette locks pinned up. 

“It's nature's magic vegetable, Miss Lucy,” Wyatt replied as a group of men on a horse-drawn cart pulled up. They were transporting the body of a man, partially covered by a sheet of fabric. A few of the younger children hid behind Lucy when the leader of the men approached Wyatt and Flynn’s cart, grabbing multiple bottles of tincture while he nearly growled: “I don't care how much Mason is paying us; I ain't going back without onions!” Doctor Bruhl, who was still standing close by, walked up to the cart and examined the body. 

“He's dead alright,” he called out, closing the man’s eyes with a soft swipe of his fingers. “Those damn lizards!” 

“Lizards?” one of the schoolchildren, a blonde girl asked. The leader grinned a toothless grin, kneeling down to face her.

“The yellow-spotted lizard is a tiny monster that lives in the wasteland of Green Lake. Each has yellow eyes, black teeth, red-rimmed eyelids, a milky white tongue, greenish skin, and exactly 11 spots, but if you get close enough to count ‘em,” he told her, “you're dead!” Squealing in terror, the girl hugged her schoolteacher tightly. Lucy shook her head at the man, and announced to the class: “Luckily there's a way to keep them away, isn't there, Wyatt? Flynn?”

“Those little buggers hate the smell of onions,” Wyatt explained, nodding towards the body on the cart. “If your friend over there had eaten a few more, he'd have lived to tell the tale.” A group of customers instantly swarmed around him, wanting to save their souls from the slow and excruciatingly painful death that was the bite of the yellow-spotted reptile. As Wyatt dealt with the commerce, Flynn grabbed a separate sack from the back of the cart and walked up to Lucy, softly telling her: “We've got a special bunch of onions for you, Miss Lucy.” The brunette blushed, accepting the burlap.

“And this is for you boys,” she replied, handing the tall man a jar of spiced peaches. He tipped his hat and smiled at her.

“I'll let you get on with your day now, Miss Lucy.” Smiling back, she waved at both men before walking off into the direction of the old schoolhouse.

Weeks passed, and spring became late summer. Rainstorms plagued the land, and they ravaged the buildings of the small town, but none as hard as the modest schoolhouse. Lucy held the children close to her as they huddled in the doorway at the end of the day, staring at the skies, looking for a sign the downpour would cease. No such luck. Sighing, she softly told them: “Best hurry on home now, before your dinners get cold. But remember that we’ll have school tomorrow, rain or shine!” The students rushed out, shielding their heads with their caps and coats while calling out: “Goodbye, Miss Lucy!”. Suddenly, Lucy’s gaze landed upon a lone tree in the distance. Seeking refuge from the rain, Wyatt and Flynn stood close together, one of Flynn’s arms resting on Lorena’s back, comforting the animal in the storm. Waving at them, Lucy turned back towards her classroom and began cleaning up. 

Moments later, a knock sounded, and Wyatt and Flynn entered the small building. Both men took off their hats, and the younger one announced: “Hello Miss Lucy. We thought you might still like some onions, despite the rain.” Lucy smiled, bowing her head.

“That’s very kind of you. Thank you.” She bent over to empty one of the buckets that were standing throughout the classroom, to collect the water that was leaking through the ceiling. Flynn nudged Wyatt and motioned his head towards the broken roof.

“Miss Lucy,” Wyatt announced, “we could fix that.” Lucy couldn’t suppress a slight scoff.

“Wyatt,” she replied, “you’re not trying to tell me that your onions are good for leaky roofs too, are you?” The younger man chuckled in response.

“No ma’am,” Flynn answered for him. “We’re just good with our hands. We built our own boat, you know. We need it to get across the lake to the onion field.”

“Well then, I guess you’d be in real trouble if your boat leaked,” Lucy joked. 

“I’ll tell you what. We’ll fix that roof, in exchange for three jars of your spiced peaches,” Wyatt suggested, motioning towards the newly-prepared jars on Lucy’s desk. Smiling, Lucy reached out to shake first his, and then Flynn’s hand, telling them: “It’s a deal.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: Period-typical racism

The next day, as they had promised, Wyatt and Flynn showed up at the school while Lucy was teaching spelling. Wyatt climbed onto the roof with unexpected agility, and Flynn began handing him large, long planks, his height allowing him to lift them close to his partner. Lucy couldn’t suppress a smile as she listened to them work, the sound of hammers hitting nails accompanied by soft humming travelling down into the classroom after her class had been dismissed. The gentle ruckus kept her company while she corrected mathematics assignments.

A week later, the roof was finished, and Lucy walked over to the two onion farmers with three jars of spiced peaches in her hands.

“Well, Miss Lucy,” Wyatt stated, “that roof will hold for at least another five years now.” 

“If there’s anything else?” Flynn asked quietly.

“The windows won’t open,” Lucy commented, pointing at the shuttered windows of the schoolhouse. “The children and I would love a breeze every now and then.”

“We can fix that,” Wyatt told her with a grin.

At the end of the afternoon, a calm had settled over Green Lake. While Wyatt and Flynn were sanding down the window-frames, Lucy was reading poetry to little Emma Whitmore. The girl didn’t have much of a stable home, but she had the most wonderful imagination. Keeping her voice gentle, Lucy read:

“ _ It was many and many a year ago,  _ __  
_ In a kingdom by the sea,  _ __  
_ That a maiden there lived whom you may know  _ __  
_ By the name of Annabel Lee;  _ __  
_ And this maiden she lived with no other thought  _ __  
_ Than to love and be loved by me.  _ __  
__  
_ I was a child and she was a child,  _ _  
_ __ In this kingdom by the sea-”

Suddenly a lower voice joined in, reciting from memory:

_ “But we loved with a love that was more than love—  _ __  
_ I and my Annabel Lee—  _ __  
_ With a love that the wingèd seraphs of Heaven  _ _  
_ __ Coveted her and me.”

“Flynn!” Lucy exclaimed softly, turning around so she could face him. A slight blush spread across his cheeks, and he averted his gaze to his hands. “How do you know Edgar Allan Poe?” she asked. Wyatt suddenly appeared next to him in the window, and explained: “You used poetry to learn English when you got here from Habsburg, didn’t you?”

“Mother says you’re a dirty Mexican,” Emma commented, looking at Flynn. 

“That's not true at all!” Wyatt responded. His hand came to rest upon Flynn’s forearm for just a fleeting moment. “You see, Flynn’s not from around these parts, ‘cause he's from Europe. And I can assure you he ain't dirty either!” 

“Is that why you talk so strange?” Emma asked. Flynn nodded. 

“Go on, please?” Lucy requested, closing her book of poetry. “The poem isn't finished yet.”

“Go on,” Wyatt encouraged him. “I know you know the rest.”

“Please, Mister Flynn?” a young boy asked. Nodding, Flynn handed his tools Wyatt and leant on the windowsill. He closed his eyes as he recited:

“ _ And this was the reason that, long ago,  _ __  
_ In this kingdom by the sea,  _ __  
_ A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling  _ __  
_ My beautiful Annabel Lee;  _ __  
_ So that her highborn kinsmen came  _ __  
_ And bore her away from me,  _ __  
_ To shut her up in a sepulchre  _ __  
_ In this kingdom by the sea.  _ __  
__  
_ The angels, not half so happy in Heaven,  _ __  
_ Went envying her and me—  _ __  
_ Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,  _ __  
_ In this kingdom by the sea)  _ __  
_ That the wind came out of the cloud by night,  _ __  
_ Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.  _ __  
__  
_ But our love it was stronger by far than the love  _ __  
_ Of those who were older than we—  _ __  
_ Of many far wiser than we—  _ __  
_ And neither the angels in Heaven above  _ __  
_ Nor the demons down under the sea  _ __  
_ Can ever dissever my soul from the soul  _ __  
_ Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;  _ __  
__  
_ For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams  _ __  
_ Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;  _ __  
_ And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes  _ __  
_ Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;  _ __  
_ And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side  _ __  
_ Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,  _ __  
_ In her sepulchre there by the sea—  _ _  
_ __ In her tomb by the sounding sea. ”

Lucy gasped softly, before softly commenting: “You know, that door doesn't hang right.” Wyatt grinned.

“We can fix that.”

The next evening, the schoolhouse was filled with the young men of Green Lake. She'd never had such a rowdy bunch at her desks, Lucy realised. She pointed at a sentence she had written on the blackboard. 

“The duck...swims...on the lake,” the gentleman currently standing up read out loud.

“Very good, Mister Wallace,” she praised him. 

“The duck may swim on the lake, but my Daddy owns the lake,” Nicholas Keynes suddenly announced, ridiculing Mr Wallace with a slow tone and bad articulation. He laughed loudly and winked at Lucy, the other men joining in. She had to suppress an eye-roll. Instead, she stated: “That will be all for tonight. Thank you class; you are dismissed.” As everyone got up to leave, she spotted Wyatt and Flynn entering to repair the door. 

“Hey, Lucille,” Nicholas said as he approached her, “how about you and I have a little picnic? We could take my motorboat.”

“No thank you, Mister Keynes.” Her response was curt and immediate. 

“It's brand new! You don't even have to row it!”

“No thank you.”

“Come on now girl, hey!” the young man protested, reaching out to touch her wrist. “No-one ever says no to Nicky Keynes.”

“I believe I just did,” Lucy stated, staring him in the eye before moving away from the blackboard to stand closer to Wyatt and Flynn. Scoffing, Keynes barged out of the schoolhouse, bumping into multiple desks on his way out. Before Lucy could move to put them back where they belonged, Wyatt and Flynn were already at her sides, wordlessly moving the heavy wooden furniture. The teacher bowed her head and let out a shaky breath.

When the had risen again, Lucy was standing outside of the building. It looked marvellous. 

“Wyatt, Flynn, this is the finest schoolhouse in all of Texas,” she stated, reaching out to shake their hands. “Thank you.”

“Thank  _ you _ , Miss Lucy,” Wyatt responded, smiling at her. Flynn didn't speak a word, but he reached for his hat and pulled the feather he wore on it off of the brim and handed it to her before following Wyatt to the docks. Lucy watched in the doorway of the schoolhouse as they rowed across the lake towards their onion field, leaving her behind.

That night, she stayed at the schoolhouse, reading Edgar Allan Poe while her heart bled. She wept deeply, knowing there was no reason for the men to keep her company now that everything was fixed. She was all alone once more.

Tears dropped onto the words of  _ Annabel Lee _ , but for once, Lucy couldn't find the strength to wipe the pages dry. 

“ _ But we loved with a love that was more than love— _ ” a gentle voice suddenly whispered as two hands tenderly grasped hers. Looking up into worried pairs of eyes, Lucy managed to tell them: “Wyatt, Garcia, I...my heart is breaking.”

“We can fix that,” not Wyatt, but Flynn responded. Both men carefully pulled her up until she was standing in between them. Lifting her chin with one finger, Flynn pressed a soft kiss against her lips before moving so Wyatt could do the same. Lucy let out a choked sob while the men embraced her.

Not one of them ever noticed Nicholas Keynes passing by the windows of the schoolhouse that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poem is 'Annabel Lee' by Edgar Allen Poe.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This is where the tagged warnings begin to apply.

Lucy woke up when the sky was still dark outside, sighing softly as she curled into the sheets of her bed. They smelled distinctively like Wyatt and Flynn, and a little bit like onions, she supposed. Smiling, she rolled over to find the room empty. A note on her nightstand told her: “ _ We’ve gone to the field. Rest, our beautiful Lucy. _ ” Lucy clutched it to her naked chest and hummed softly as she suddenly saw an unusual orange glow shining in through the half-drawn curtains. Getting up, she walked up to the window. When she saw a large amount of flames burst from the schoolhouse, she gasped loudly. That couldn’t be possible, could it? 

She quickly pulled on her dresses and wrapped a large scarf around her shoulders, leaving the note behind as she stormed out of her room, into the streets. The entire town was gathered in front of the small building, cheering as the men worked to feed the fire that was raging.

“Stop it!” she screamed, tears gathering in her eyes. “Stop it!” She tried to hit one of the men, but he just ignored her and continued yelling. Her panicked screams got lost in the ruckus of the wood groaning and glass breaking under the heat of the fire.

The sheriff! She had to get to the sheriff! Sprinting with a burst of strength she didn’t know she possessed, she ran towards the jailhouse. Sheriff Benjamin Cahill was sitting behind his desk, and her mother was standing beside him as Lucy entered, trying to catch her breath as she exclaimed: “Father, you have to stop them! They’re destroying the school!” Sheriff Cahill chuckled, but didn’t get up.

“You’re drunk,” Lucy realised as she observed him, stepping closer. 

“You know me, sweetheart. I always drink before a hanging,” he stated, staring her in the eye. The meaning of his words settled in slowly, like the rippling of the waves of the lake.

“What…?” Lucy stammered. “No. You can’t!”

“They kissed you,” Carol commented stoically. “They’re getting what they deserve. It's just the way it is.” Lucy’s head felt heavy, and the world seemed to be spinning around her, but she managed to exclaim: “You’re my parents! How can you do this?”

“We know what’s best for you, Lucy, dear.” Her mother’s words made her sick to her stomach.

“If you want to hang them,” Lucy decided, “you’re going to have to hang me too, because I kissed them back.” 

Lucy ran as fast as her legs could carry her. She had to get to the docks. Maybe she could still get to her boys in time; maybe they were already safe at the field. As she passed a post, her foot caught on something big and soft, and she fell onto the grass. 

“Oh God!” she called out as she came face-to-face with the glassy eyes of Lorena. 

“How could you?!” Lucy screamed to the onlookers. “She's just a poor animal! She had nothing to do with this! You monsters!” Everything in her wanted to cradle the poor creature until the last of her warmth left her body, but she had no time. Removing her scarf, she covered the donkey’s wounds and kissed her neck, whispering: “I’ll come back for you. I promise.” Lucy took a shaky breath and got back up. Her right ankle screamed in protest. 

She must have looked like a crazy woman, she would later realise, only half-dressed, covered in mud and blood, but at that moment all she could think about was getting to the lake. As she finally,  _ finally  _ reached the docks, her eyes searched the dark horizon until they settled on the silhouette of Wyatt and Flynn’s boat, two figures working hard to row towards God’s Thumb in the middle of the water, where she knew their field was. Thank God, they were safe.

Suddenly some movement on the water caught her attention, and her panic doubled. Nicholas Keynes and his men were on that damned motorboat of his. The steam engine was catching up to both farmers in the rowboat, and all she could do was watch in horror.

“Wyatt! Flynn! No!” Lucy shrieked, praying that there would be some way for them to get to safety. “Nick! Stop! Don’t do this!” Her feet took her a few steps into the water, but it was icy cold and she’d never be able to get to them in time.

“Wyatt! Flynn!” she repeated, waving and wailing. Her boys wouldn’t have any weapons on them; they weren’t that kind of men. They were innocent, damn it!

“No!” Lucy screamed as Keynes’ boat reached the farmers. 

The next sounds she heard were two shotgun shots.

Then, there was nothing.


	4. Chapter 4

The following morning, life in Green Lake had returned to its usual calm self. Most of the men had gone to the saloon out of church, and there was no school following the service. The charred remains of the schoolhouse were the only reminder of what had transpired the previous night, along with the blanket and flowers covering the body of Flynn and Wyatt’s beloved donkey. Keynes and his men had dumped their bodies on the other side of the lake, leaving them to rot.

The sheriff’s office was surprisingly well-filled, though most of its current occupants were being held in the holding cells against their will. The men were lounging against the walls, bored out of their minds, when suddenly, Lucy Preston entered. Unlike the way they were used to seeing her, she was now dressed fully in red, with bright red paint on her lips and her hair down, protected by a wide-brimmed hat, long white ribbons running down from the sides and gathered in front of her chest. A feather was anchored into its fabric.

“Lucy, my dear,” Sheriff Cahill exclaimed, spreading his arms. “You look much better than last night!”

“We’re glad to see you out and about,” Carol added.

“Come here and give your dear old Pa a kiss,” the sheriff commanded.

“I’d love to,” Lucy replied, a sweet smile on her face. “You see…” Immediately, her facial expression turned stone-cold, and she retrieved a revolver from the skirts of her dresses. Pointing it at her father, she pulled back the hammer. “...everyone I kiss, ends up dead.” Before Benjamin could protest, she fired the gun into his forehead, and he collapsed instantly. 

“As for you, my dear, dear mother,” she continued, cocking the hammer once more, “you won’t have to live without the bastard.” A loud bang followed. The lifeless body of Carol Preston sagged against the wall. Sighing deeply, Lucy approached them both and placed a kiss on their temples, leaving a bright red mark behind. As she turned to face the men in the cells, who were too shocked to even move, she smiled once more. “Don’t you worry now, fellows. I only kiss the ones I kill.” One of the prisoners offered her a weak wave and watched her turn on her heel and march out of the sheriff’s office. 

Outside, Lucy reached out to softly caress the neck of the pitch-black mare she had bought from Connor Mason using her very last savings. 

“Hello Iris,” she whispered softly. “It’s time to leave, my darling.” With one swift move she got up onto the horse’s back and gently spurred her into motion, leaving Green Lake and its inhabitants behind her.

It wasn’t that the town never heard of Lucy Preston, though. Their Miss Lucy quickly began appearing in the newspapers, moving from the back section to the front page within weeks.

_ LIPSTICK LUCY PRESTON STRIKES AGAIN _

_ PRESTON GANG ROBS THIRD BANK IN ONE MONTH _

_ REWARD MONEY FOR LIPSTICK LUCY PRESTON RISES HIGHER THAN EVER BEFORE _

As she tried to warm up by the campfire one cold night, Lucy looked at the people surrounding her. Her ‘gang of outlaws’ as the presses had put it, had become less of a gang and more of a family. She trusted them all with her life: Denise, who had been exiled by her tribe for falling in love with a woman; Jessica, who had narrowly escaped death fleeing from her husband; Rufus and Jiya, banished for interracial love. The outcasts of society, led by a ‘men-hating nutjob’, the moniker she had  _ lovingly _ been given by the locals patriarchy. If only they knew her love for two men in particular had caused all of this. It pained her heart still. Where there had once been hope and light, only hatred could be detected now.

Years went by, and as Green Lake slowly began succumbing to the drought, so did the Preston gang, until twenty years later Lucy finally found herself completely alone again. Everyone she had ever loved was dead - either shot or just...collapsed, and she knew she didn’t have much time left anymore. Her body was tired, but her mind was exhausted. She had gifted Iris to a farmer who had let her rest in his barn last night, and now she could only walk. Green Lake was gone, replaced by an arid desert. The lake had dried up. Ever since that fateful night, it had never rained again. 

In the middle of what had once been the lake, she suddenly spotted a turned-over wooden boat. Her eyes had trouble focusing, but she recognised it out of millions. It was the  _ Lorena _ . She had once chastised Wyatt and Flynn for naming their boat and their donkey the same, but they had explained that they had decided to name their two most important possessions after Flynn’s mother, the only female role model they had ever had. Her tired legs managed to get her to the boat, and then she collapsed against it. She needed water, but there was none. She hadn’t had access to it in hours now, and it was getting to her. She knew that. It wouldn’t be long now.

_ “Lucy. Our beautiful Lucy.”  _ Looking up through heavy eyelids, her pupils widened.

“Boys,” she sighed, smiling softly. “It’s so hot, but I’m so cold, so cold. It hurts.” Her voice broke as she pleaded with them. Wyatt crouched down to face her.

_ “We can fix that.”  _

A throat was cleared on her other side, and the moment she turned to inspect who had made the noise, Wyatt and Flynn disappeared from her vision. No, they couldn’t leave her again. Not again. Lifting her rifle, she aimed it at the intruder. 

“I’ve been waiting for you, Keynes,” she rasped, cocking the hammer. “But I ain’t gonna kill you.”

“Where’s the loot. Preston?” the man exclaimed angrily, not at the least impressed by the barrel of the gun pointed in his face. Lucy’s aim trembled as she replied: “There ain’t no loot!” She lowered her rifle again, and Nicholas immediately aimed his towards her heart instead. 

“Don’t be ridiculous. Tell us where it is!” the woman by Keynes’ side commanded. Lucy knew that voice; she knew that face. 

“Emma Whitmore?” she asked.

“I’ve been Emma Keynes for quite some time now,” Emma replied, a smug grin on her face. Lucy sighed.

“You used to be so sweet; you must have married him for his money.”

“That’s none of your damn business, woman!” Keynes interrupted her. “Now tell us where it is!”

“I ain’t going to tell you,” she replied. There was no point anymore. “Go on. Kill me. The lake goes on for miles.”

“We’ll find it, you know,” Emma countered. “We’ll find it, and we’ll be rich, and you’ll suffer for everything you’ve done. You’re going to wish you were dead when we’re done with you.”

Lucy chuckled at her words.

“I’ve been wishing I was dead for a long time,” she admitted on a sigh. “Your children and your grandchildren will dig for the next one hundred years and you’ll never find it.” Letting her hand drop against the boat with a soft thud, Lucy caused a vibration to travel through the wood. Emma screeched in fear as multiple yellow-spotted lizards began crawling out from underneath the vessel, coming to a halt on Lucy’s chest and thighs. 

“Hello there, beautiful,” the brunette whispered. “Are you here to help me?” Looking straight at the two threatening her, she told them: “Start digging, Keynes.” Grabbing one of the lizards, she held its body tightly, and it immediately sunk its teeth into the skin of her wrist. Lucy sighed as the venom began coursing through her veins, burning its way through her heart and into her lungs. Her airways constricted and she let out a choked sob, still grinning at Nicholas and Emma until her breathing stopped altogether.

That night, it rained.

~Fin.

**Author's Note:**

> After having this idea pop up in my head, I couldn't not write it, now could I?


End file.
